


Him.

by halseam



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Swearing, Unrequited Crush, anyway steve has a major crush on soda and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, fun fact: i do not know how to title anything, sorry in advance, this is also my first time writing for this fandom so it’s probably shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 04:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halseam/pseuds/halseam
Summary: The feeling of having a crush on your best friend is… strange, to say the least.





	Him.

The feeling of having a crush on your best friend is… strange, to say the least. It’s kind of nerve wracking, too, because you don’t know when you’re going to break. Best friends, well, they’re always there. You’re always hanging out with them, even if it’s just the two of you playing blackjack for five minutes while one waits for a bus to arrive, best friends are always just… around. So it’s no surprise if one develops a crush on the other, but just because it’s no surprise doesn’t mean it’s not horrible. 

Steve can remember the first time he realized he had a crush on Soda. They were at the DX, Steve working on a car and Soda dancing along to the music on the radio. He can remember rolling out from under the car and seeing Soda just flailing, grinning down at Steve and urging him to join in the dancing. 

“Only one song,” Steve had said, standing up and laughing at Soda’s eccentric cheering. 

“Only one!” Soda yelled, voice nothing but happy. He took hold of Steve’s hands and flailed their arms together. 

They jumped and kicked for a minute and a half, until the song was finished. Steve stood still, panting, for a second or two, then rolled back under the car. A minute into the next song, he could hear Ponyboy enter and shut off the radio, calling them soft for listening to The Beatles. Steve laughed silently as Soda mock whined and he could feel butterflies in his stomach. 

After that, the things that made his stomach do flips became smaller and smaller. Like, once they were standing in line at a convenience store, and Soda made a lame joke about one of the magazine covers and turned to Steve with a toothy grin and Steve didn’t stop thinking about it for hours. Something so small and mundane made him so flustered and confused and question who Steve Randle was turning into. 

And after that, he just became more and more angry with himself. Angry because the crush wasn’t going away. Angry because he’s _Steve Randle_ , he shouldn’t get like this around people. Angry because Soda doesn’t feel the same way. Angry because even if Soda _did_ feel the same way, they’d be judged by the gang. Angry because no one, _no one_ , has made him feel like this before. Angry because eventually, he started pushing Soda away, and in turn the rest of the gang. 

He’s sitting on a park bench. It’s just past sunset, but there are still some people out and walking around. His left hand is dug deep in his pocket, gripping a switchblade he had found on the street a couple days ago, and right hand holding a cigarette to his mouth. A group of four or five people walk past, talking loudly and laughing with one another. They remind Steve of him and the gang. Or at least how they used to be before Steve decided it would be best to leave until he was normal again. 

God, Pony was right, he is getting soft. That’s embarrassing. 

The group passes and its silent. Steve flicks out the cigarette and goes to stand. A pair of hands force themselves down on Steve’s shoulders, and with it, a voice screaming maniacally. He forces himself out of the grip and turns around, pressing his switchblade to the throat of the attacker. 

It’s Soda. 

Fantastic. 

“Shit.” Steve breathes. He takes the switch away from Soda’s throat and a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets again. “You scared me,”

“Sorry.” Soda hops over the bench and stands facing Steve. 

Soda falls back, sitting right where Steve was a moment ago. “So. Where’ve you been?”

“Why?”

“You’ve been ignoring me and the gang for, like, a month for no reason. Where the hell’d you go?”

“Why d’you care?” Steve lights another cigarette and walks away. He doesn’t get a reply, then Soda begins walking beside him and Steve has to shove his hand in his pocket or he’ll try to hold Soda’s hand. 

“Cuz you’re my best friend. You’re our buddy. You can’t disappear for a month and assume we ain’t gonna worry,” 

“Sorry for gettin’ on with my life,”

“ _Gettin’ on with your life_? That ain’t somethin’ the old Steve Randle would say,” a Soda laughs pathetically, “‘sides, your name’s still on the schedule at work. If you’d’a tried to _get on with your life_ , you’d’a quit, and that ain’t somethin’ you’re doin’ anytime soon,”

“Dealin’ with personal issues,”

“What kinda personal issues? You can talk to me and the gang about any of that,”

“Involvin’ the gang,”

Soda stops and Steve turns onto the sidewalk. He takes a drag of his cigarette. A second later, Soda is back at Steve’s side and trying to take the cigarette. 

“Whaddya mean involvin’ the gang? You wanna leave?” Soda asks, reaching across Steve’s chest and for the cigarette Steve’s holding at arm’s length. 

“Nah. Don’t wanna leave,”

Soda laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with one of us,” he pumps his fist triumphantly as he takes the cigarette and throws it on someone’s lawn. Whatever, Steve still has half a pack left. 

When Steve doesn’t answer to Soda’s guess, the pieces click and he takes hold of his friend’s arm. He forces them to stop and Steve can feel his heartbeat speed up, knowing what’s about to come next. There was once just a _rumour_ that one of their neighbours was homosexual and he got beaten up real bad. If the gang finds out one of their buddies could be, Steve is dead meat. They stare at one another. Soda doesn’t have a malicious look in his eye, but Steve still can’t completely convince himself to feel safe. The grip he has on his switch reassures him the tiniest bit. 

“Who is it?” Soda asks quietly, now avoiding Steve’s gaze. 

“You’d fuckin’ kill me if I told you,” Steve pulls himself free of Soda’s grip and crosses the street. He walks quicker than he ever has, preferring to be at home with his drunk deadbeat of a father than anywhere else right now, which is a situation he never thought he’d be in. Running footsteps fall behind Steve, following him between two houses. 

“Who is it? I promise—”

“I said, you’d kill me if I told you,”

Soda reaches Steve, hand placing itself on the other’s shoulder and flipping him around so they’re facing each other. Steve reaches to shove Soda away, but he’s pushed against one of the houses before he can do anything. 

“Tell me who it is,” Soda’s voice is low, but not malicious. He genuinely wants to know, but Steve is not telling him, and it’s hurting him. 

“No,”

“I promise I won’t judge you,” Soda whispers. His eyes shine in the dark, reflecting the brightness of the moon and yellow light from the house they’re against. “I just—”

“It’s you!” Steve pushes Soda away with more force than intended. “It’s you, alright? Happy now? It’s you and your stupid fuckin’ smile and your ability to make everyone happy and your eyes and your jokes and your—everythin’! Everythin’ about you! And it’s not fuckin’ fair because I’m not fuckin’ normal and the shit that I’m thinkin’ ain’t normal! I just wanna be normal! I wanna get a girl and I wanna marry her and have a family but I just—I just can’t stop thinkin’ about you!” Steve breathes heavily, then looks at Soda. They’re standing across from each other, and Soda’s face is paper white. “Happy?” Steve says, deadpan, and begins walking again. He lights yet another cigarette. 

——

Steve is sitting on the side of the bathtub, staring at the dirty towel on the floor and thinking about what he just did. He, now not even ten minutes ago, told Soda that he’s in love with him but that’s not the truth. He likes Soda, really likes him, but he doesn’t love him. Truth be told, Steve isn’t sure what love really is. His mom and dad had a shit marriage and never payed any attention to him, his mom died a few years back, and somehow Steve felt even more unloved than before. He doesn’t know why he didn’t correct Soda, but now Soda thinks he loves him and that’s worse than before. 

His dad knocks at the door, slurring some indistinct words which Steve doesn’t pay attention to, then opens it. Steve begins to protest, but looking up and seeing Soda step into the cramped bathroom silences him. Soda leans against the sink, closing the door behind him, and neither speak. 

Until Soda does. 

“Look, I’m sorry for pushin’ you to share that with me,” he begins, “you didn’t wanna tell me. That’s fine. You didn’t have to shove me like that, though,”

Steve silently agrees. His shoving Soda so violently was an asshole move. 

“I just, uh, I want you to know that—” Soda screws his face up, trying to figure out what to say. Steve finds it adorable and he can’t stop staring, even when Soda uncrumples his face and looks back at the other. “What the hell?” He mutters to himself. “I feel the same way,”

What?

“What?”

“I, uh, didn’t know what was goin’ on with me ‘til last week. That recent. I go to sleep thinkin’ ‘bout you, Stevie. Don’t even mean to, I just do it. I know it’s weird—”

Steve can’t help himself anymore. He launches himself off the side of the bathtub, grabs Soda by the waist and presses their lips together roughly. Soda hits the door with a small _thunk_ and lets out a small noise of surprise, then Steve feels hands on his cheeks, and he knows he’s fine. He’s okay and safe and happy. 

Nah, not happy. More than that. There isn’t a word to describe how happy he is that Sodapop Curtis, of all people, is kissing him. It seems like a dream, a dream Steve is sure he’s had before, and there’s another thing to describe how he’s feeling. Like a dream has come true. Pony has said that a few times before, that nerd, but Steve finally knows what he’s talking about. However, like all dreams, it end just before the best part. 

Soda pulls them away from each other, Steve pushing himself toward Soda for a second before tipping his forehead forward and resting it against Soda’s. He inhales happily. 

“Don’t go gettin’ soft on me now,” Soda laughs. He runs his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone and Steve can feel himself turning to jelly as shivers run down his spine. 

“That ain’t happenin’ any time soon, that’s for sure,”

**Author's Note:**

> pls tell me what you think of this. it’s my first time writing anything for the outsiders and idk if it’s good or not


End file.
